Love Songs
by Juje
Summary: After Bella and Edward leave for their honeymoon, and their lingering guests disappear into the night, Carlisle and Esme reminisce about their own wedding and share the "perfect" evening.


_AN: This is my first foray into fanfiction and marks my return to writing after a five year hiatus. I'm a little rusty (to put it loosely), and writing this time around has been a challenging experience. I would be nothing without my baking buddy and faithful pre-reader Malianani, who cheered me on and whose insight into the characters I love so much proved invaluable._

_As always, "The Twilight Saga" and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer._

* * *

"Finally," I breathed, a blissful smile on my lips.

Carlisle and I were wrapped up together, his arm around my shoulders and my head snuggly against his chest. We were sitting in the same seats where, several hours before, we had watched as Charlie led Bella down the aisle to a euphoric Edward.

Carlisle kissed my hair in response and sighed, pulling me more tightly against him.

Bella and Edward were likely in our private jet by now on their way to Rio de Janeiro. Our remaining children were scattered across the state, each couple heading to a secluded location for their own romantic getaway. I was content to stay behind with Carlisle – having our cozy home to ourselves for a week was a precious gift I didn't intend to waste.

Still surrounded by the white blossoms and gossamer ribbons that hung from every inch of our ceiling, my husband and I were basking in the afterglow of our perfect day. The loud chattering of Edward and Bella's guests had diminished to a pleasant silence, disturbed only by the hum of crickets chirping outside. There was an unseasonal chill in the air that made even Carlisle's cool body feel warm against my own. Wrapped in his embrace, I wondered if I was waking up from a glorious dream.

Our first son, whose relentless melancholy had pained us both for decades, had finally found the love and fulfillment he desired – and so richly deserved. Because of his gift, Edward experienced romantic love through our eyes long before he felt it towards someone else. The only member of our family without a mate, he grew lonely and despondent after Alice and Jasper's arrival. The thought that he might leave us again was never far from my mind, and I lived in constant fear of losing him forever. Then, out of nowhere, an unassuming human girl captured his heart. The challenges they faced seemed insurmountable, but I always believed Bella and Edward would have their fairytale ending.

Joy bubbled up inside me at the thought of Edward's crooked smile as he stood waiting at the altar, and I giggled softly to myself. His happiness was infectious even hours later. I tilted my head to look at Carlisle, wondering if his thoughts were as sanguine as mine, and appraised his features – his pronounced brow line, his high cheek bones, and his strong jaw. He looked ethereal in the moonlight that poured in through our living room windows. His golden hair glimmered, and his pale skin reminded me of snow on a cold winter's night.

"I love you," I whispered.

"And I love you, Esme," Carlisle replied softly, reaching down beneath my knees and lifting me into his lap.

I touched the smooth skin of his face, and he turned his head and kissed my palm, taking a moment to breathe in my scent.

"I cannot recall a more perfect day," I muttered. "Except, perhaps, for that day in 1922 when I earned the incredible privilege of being yours, Dr. Cullen." I smiled sweetly, every detail of our wedding day still so clear in my flawless memory.

"The privilege was all mine, Mrs. Cullen," he countered with a grin.

I let my eyes wander around the room, examining the dozens of empty chairs and the extravagant flower arrangements. With Alice asserting the role of wedding planner, Bella and Edward's ceremony had been very different from our own.

When Carlisle and I were married in 1922 at Gethsemane Episcopal Church in Minneapolis, the ceremony was brief. We had no guests and no decorations. The austere appearance of the sanctuary was ornate in comparison to my childhood church. Maybe that explains the special appreciation I had for its simple beauty – a beauty I hated to muddle with yards of ribbon and hundreds of flowers. The intricately carved altar was stained a deep, dark mahogany, and the stained glass windows emanated colorful rays of light even on the dreariest day.

I opted not to wear one of fanned headdresses that were so popular at the time, and instead, let my hair hang naturally – one of Carlisle's only requests. He loved my unruly curls. I wore a modest cream-colored gown with a lace overlay and cap sleeves that my "brother" Edward helped me choose. The traditional bouquet of orange blossoms I carried was the final touch. A symbol of everlasting love and devotion, no other flower was more appropriate.

While I waited alone in the sacristy that day before the ceremony began, I held my trembling hands at my sides and balled them into fists, trying unsuccessfully to maintain my composure. Desperate sobs shook my body when I thought of Carlisle waiting for me at the altar. For ten years, he had been my fantasy and my refuge. I had built him up in my imagination as the epitome of the perfect husband and lover, and I held onto these illusions of him like vice – illusions that, as it turned out, paled in comparison to the real thing. Carlisle was the love I had dreamt of and prayed for, and he was minutes away from being mine for eternity.

"I can still see you so clearly," I said, before turning to look at him and examine his reaction. "You looked dashing in your black suit and tie, your hair tousled just so. You were waiting patiently for me at the altar with Edward – calm and steady, like always. But I, on the other hand…I was overwrought and anxious, liable to take off down the aisle at any moment and throw myself into your arms. I still have no idea how I managed to contain myself." I smiled quickly at him before I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck.

Carlisle laughed. "Don't believe the façade, my dear."

Incredulous, I pulled my head back to look at him.

"When you rounded the corner, and I saw you for the first time, my knees almost buckled beneath me. You were the most exquisite thing I had ever seen. Maybe it was the faint beams of sunlight that broke through the sanctuary windows, but I was convinced you were glowing. I started to wonder if – impossibly – I was dying, and the Lord had sent an angel to carry me to heaven. But, as you got closer, I realized you were not some figment of my imagination. You were very real. My Esme was walking down the aisle to marry me before God and His church."

He paused to take an unnecessary breath, and I tenderly situated a stray tendril of hair off his forehead where the tension was evident. Carlisle had turned from elated to distressed in an instant.

"What is it?" I asked softly. I placed my hand on his chest and dragged my fingertips back and forth, trying to reassure him.

"Frankly, I feel rather selfish. Today was supposed to be about Bella and Edward and their love for one another, but my mind was often somewhere else." He seemed genuinely troubled by his confession. "I couldn't help but relive our wedding day over and over in my mind."

"Oh, Carlisle!" I protested, shaking my head. "It's only natural today's events would conjure up memories of our own wedding, and, truthfully, there were times today when I found it impossible to concentrate on anyone but you."

I reached down and grabbed his left hand, bringing it to my lips. He relaxed as I kissed his wedding band and began twisting it around his finger. To the human eye, the ring was simple – a traditional band made of precious metal – but, like mine, it carried a sentimental engraving.

As I looked at his now, I could see the altered prose as it wrapped around his finger in perfect script – "My beloved is mine, and I am hers." I smiled, the memory of why this short sentence was so significant to our lives and love coming to the forefront of my mind.

"Can you guess one of my favorite memories of you?" I asked coyly.

Carlisle responded, chuckling, "I imagine it has something to do with the evening before our wedding when we were reading the Bible together, and I came dangerously close to making love to you for the first time on the floor of my study."

I looked down and bit my lip, trying desperately to hold back the laughter erupting inside my chest. "Darling, I know you set out with good intentions that night. You wanted to frame our love and our yearning for one another in a spiritual context. It was your way of showing me, of reassuring me, that physical intimacy between two people in love is a beautiful, sacred act. Song of Solomon was the perfect choice."

He smiled and closed his eyes, clearly replaying scene in his mind. "You sat barefoot on the floor across from me. Your aversion to shoes back then was rather charming. You were wearing a royal blue dress, and there was a brown-eyed Susan tucked behind your ear. The petals matched the color of your eyes, the same dazzling yellow as the setting sun. You watched me intently as I read, falling over my every word …"

"I was partially in shock – I never knew the Bible could be so erotic," I interjected, and his smile grew wider.

"Your lips were slightly parted, beckoning my own." Then, he opened his mesmerizing eyes, shining and black like onyx. "How could I possibly resist you?"

He stared longingly at my lips before he lifted my chin and pulled me into a gentle kiss. His supple tongue searched for entrance, and I gladly granted it. I wrapped my hands around his neck, drawing his body closer to mine.

His skin was like velvet under my touch, and I bathed in his scent - a manly smell of cedar, musk, and spice. Distinctly Carlisle, it was stronger to me than the thousands of fragrant flowers that surrounded us. I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, but nothing was as intoxicating as his taste. If Carlisle's kiss alone could sustain me, I would never need to take the life of a single creature ever again.

He moved from my lips and began placing affectionate little kisses along my jawline. My head lulled to the side as he made his way down my neck and across my collarbone, pausing to tug at the strap of my silver gown. It fell from my shoulder, exposing my lacy lavender bra.

"You are ravishing," he purred, as his index finger slid down the strap of my bra and traced back and forth over the top my breast now protruding out of the frilly material.

"Will you dance with me?" I blurted out, suddenly remembering the plan I had set in motion several days earlier. Carlisle suppressed a laugh. He was undoubtedly anticipating a different proposition, but he seemed delighted nonetheless. I loved I could still surprise him.

"Of course, I will, my love. The disc jockey equipment from the reception is still setup outside. Do you have a particular song in mind?" he asked tenderly, hugging me to him. He returned the strap of my dress to its rightful place before resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Of course, I do," I replied with a smile, jumping up from Carlisle's embrace. I reached out my hand to him, and he took it before standing and following me outside.

A rare sight, the full moon and glittering stars were welcomed voyeurs to our private dance. Fireflies played along the edge of the forest, and a gentle breeze blew across the backyard, carrying with it the heavy scent of pine. If you listened closely, you could hear the rushing waters of the Sol Duc River as it meandered through the trees. I couldn't have imagined a more magical backdrop.

My gown shimmered faintly as Carlisle and I stood hand in hand on the edge of the dance floor. I sighed contentedly and whispered, "I'll be back soon, darling."

I sauntered towards the computer equipment Emmett and Rosalie had arranged in the corner of the floor, kicking my heels off along the way. The dance floor felt like glass – slick and cool – beneath my bare feet.

Bending over the table, I searched for my playlist on the computer screen. The slinky dress I wore clung precariously to every curve of my body. My breasts hung low, threatening to escape. The low neckline offered little protection. I looked up to find Carlisle admiring my form. The goofy smile he wore elicited a trite chuckle from my throat.

"I still question whether this silly dress was appropriate attire for the mother of the groom, but our daughters were so insistent. I was self-conscious about the slit all evening – it's halfway up my _thigh_."

"'Silly dress?'" Carlisle repeated, feigning outrage. "That dress is _anything_ but silly."

If I could still blush, I had no doubt I would have. The sincerity in his voice and the love in his gaze made me feel frantic and flustered – exactly the way I felt before we shared our very first dance.

I found the song I was searching for, a special recording I requested from my talented son as a birthday gift, and pressed play before scurrying back to Carlisle's waiting arms.

The first several seconds of the recording were silent, causing Carlisle to look at me with suspicion. He held me tightly, and my body formed to his like I was cast from his mold. A soothing warmth washed over me as I melted into him, fusing to him.

His left hand held mine suspended in the air, and his right settled on my lower back as the music began to flow from the speakers. When he heard the first note from the piano, he looked down at me and smiled. Like me, Carlisle knew every note of the love song that poured out into the night air.

Inspired by our then burgeoning romance, the extraordinary composition was written and first performed by our adoring son almost ninety years ago. Edward somehow managed to capture every cherished moment in that song. All that was true and deep and pure about our love reverberated in every note, flooding my heart with the all-consuming feeling of first love every time I heard it. It was a feeling that hadn't faded and only intensified every day of my eternal life.

We started to move in time with the music, gracefully floating across the dance floor. As we danced, I couldn't bear to look away from Carlisle's eyes. In his eyes, I saw every side of him. Carlisle was a doctor, a healer – the man who had tended my broken leg when I was sixteen years old and likely saved the lives of thousands of patients over the past three centuries. He was a father, a leader – the man who had quietly guided our son through the challenges and joys of falling in love and carried our family through the chaos of the past year. And he was my lover, my husband – the man who had given me more pleasure than any of my foolish teenage fantasies could conjure and vowed to love me until the end of time.

As the tempo increased, and the crescendo built, my tumultuous thoughts mimicked the music. Carlisle was so much more to me than the conventional roles he played. Lost in his eyes, I saw more than a doctor, a father, and a husband. Carlisle was my soulmate and my salvation. My human life was wrought with tragedy and loss, and when I tried to end it by my own hand, he rescued me and offered me redemption. His healing love washed away the shame and the guilt. He showed me I was worthy – worthy to be loved by him and worthy to love him in return. Through Carlisle, I found absolution and the strength to let go of my painful past.

My love for him was pulsating through my veins like the silent beat of the music. I felt it churning in my chest and rushing through my body. I knew then I couldn't contain it. I needed to let all of the emotion pour out of me; otherwise, I feared my fragile heart would simply burst. I needed to tell him how fervently I loved and adored him, how he had saved me from myself and given me life, but words seemed painfully inadequate to express how I felt.

The crescendo hit its peak, and Carlisle unexpectedly spun me around and dipped me, my hair grazing the floor. He lowered his head, and his eyes bore into me as his breath grazed my lips. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He let his hand wander down my side, finally settling on my bare thigh as I hooked my leg around his waist. The friction of his skin on mine created a spark that traveled down my spine, igniting a fire only he could extinguish. He cocked his head, and instead of giving me the kiss my racing mind was longing for, he gave me the kiss my wanton body desired.

When his lips touched the small white markings on my neck where he claimed me as his forever, I gasped. I felt no pain, but the scar on my neck, imperceptible to the human eye, was the most erogenous zone on my entire body. He kissed it again, this time letting his tongue drag across my skin. It was all too much – his lips, his body, his roaming hands. I shuddered, and he stood straight, encircling me protectively with his arms. My head fell against his shoulder as I struggled to stand on my own.

"I am utterly selfish," he lamented before placing a lingering kiss on my forehead.

"No," I argued weakly. I was still distracted by the phantom sensation of his open mouth on my neck to put up a proper fight. "I thought we settled this."

"I still mourn the loss of your human life, and I hate myself for causing the physical pain brought on by your transformation." He sighed. "But, God help me, Esme, I cherish the day I sunk my teeth into your flesh and made you mine forever." I smiled in response and kissed his chest.

"My love, I view that moment with the same reverence as I view our first kiss, our wedding, and the first time we made love. I exist for you and because of you, just as you do for me. I am yours, and you...you are mine."

I forced myself to pull away from him, taking a few steps backward. I reached around my waist and slowly unhooked the line of buttons holding me in my gown. Carlisle stood still; only his eyes moved as I unfastened the thin belt around my waist. I tossed it aside before reaching for the straps of my dress. I dragged them down my arms and let the expensive gown fall to the floor.

He crossed the space between us in an instant, cupping my face in his hands. I anticipated an urgent kiss, but instead, he paused, shaking his head bemused.

"Carlisle?" I questioned.

"You are magnificent, Esme," he responded, his voice laden with desire. "I am, and forever will be, unworthy of your incredible beauty."

And finally the passionate kiss I was expecting came crashing against my lips. Carlisle's mouth moved eagerly against mine, and his hands dropped from my face to my waist, trapping my hips against his. I could feel his arousal throbbing against my stomach, and it stoked the already blazing fire raging inside me.

I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and roughly pushed it off his shoulders. I moved next to the buttons of his dress shirt, carelessly plucking them from the fabric. All I wanted was to feel his skin against my own, but before I could remove the few remaining buttons, Carlisle reached behind me, forcefully grabbed my backside, and scooped me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and flung my arms around his neck. My hands wove through his blonde hair, and I tugged gently as his lips met mine, his zealous tongue plunging into my mouth.

He carried me inside and up the staircase to our third floor bedroom, stopping every few steps to pin me against the wall and savor our fervid kiss. When he reached our bed, he came to a screeching halt and arched his neck to look at me.

"Oh, Esme," he murmured, stroking my cheek, "I'm on fire for you, but I _must _will myself to slow down. Tonight, I want to worship every inch of you."

He tenderly lowered me onto the soft white comforter, and I nestled myself into the mound of downy pillows at the head of our bed. Carlisle hovered over me, gazing into my eyes. When he looked at me like this, I was convinced I could feel my long dead heart pounding again inside my chest. He made me feel alive.

He placed a light kiss on my lips before getting off the bed and removing his clothes. He unhooked the remaining buttons on his shirt and let it fall to the floor. I watched him intently, studying every curve of his sculpted chest and back as he removed his belt and then his pants. When we were newlyweds, Carlisle's spectacular body had both thrilled and intimidated me.

When he returned to the bed, he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, the apples of my cheeks, the tip of my nose, and finally my expectant lips. Then, he sat back and crawled toward the bottom of the bed. He let his eyes wander over my body appreciatively before he started to stroke the top of my foot.

I wagged an eyebrow at him and grinned. I was honestly perplexed by his actions, but then he started to speak, a memory from long ago filling my mind and my heart.

"How beautiful are thy feet in sandals, O prince's daughter," he whispered. He placed a few feather light kisses along the top of my right foot and around my ankle before moving to the left as his hands slid devastatingly slow up the back of my calves. He hooked his hands carefully behind my knees and snaked his tongue up my shin before kissing each knee cap.

"Thy rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a skillful craftsman." He massaged the sides of my thighs, his thumbs tracing deep circles in my flesh. Far from idle, his impatient lips placed wet kisses against the tender skin between my legs. Lost in the sensation, I let my eyes flutter closed only to open them a few seconds later, startled by the loss of his touch.

He hovered over my waist, tilting his head back to look at me as he spoke. His eyes pierced through me, but his voice was low and loving. "Thy body is like a round goblet, wherein no mingled wine is wanting."

He dropped his nose to my underwear, and I instinctively wound my hands in his hair and rocked my hips. My lust soared. I was desperate for him to touch me, to rid me of the thin fabric that separated us. He inhaled, dragging the tip of his nose up my lower stomach and placing a single chaste kiss just below my bellybutton. I whimpered and pulled at fistfuls of his hair. The way he was teasing me was deliciously satisfying, but I was growing impatient.

"Thy waist is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies." He covered my stomach with dozens of insatiable kisses, his tongue sneaking out to taste my skin. He reached underneath me, and I arched my back, allowing him to lift me from the bed. He trailed kisses up to my breast bone, and I let my head fall back. I knew what was coming next.

"Thy breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe." Carlisle slid his right hand further up my back and deftly unhooked my bra with one hand. The undergarment soon found its way to the floor, and he hungrily sucked my taut nipple into his mouth. A soft moan escaped my lips, and Carlisle moved to my other breast, lavishing it with equal attention.

When he pulled away, I wriggled beneath him. This was akin to torture. He lowered me back down onto the bed, cradling me in his arms. He held himself over me, and I watched his mouth as he spoke. His lips seemed fuller, and his cheeks, flushed, even though I knew it was impossible.

"Thy neck is like the tower of ivory," he whispered, tracing his index finger over my scar. I reached up and did the same to him. Regardless of our joint and separate struggles with this existence, I was grateful for those jagged imperfections that marred our otherwise impeccable skin.

"Thine eyes are like the pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim; thy nose is like the tower of Lebanon with looketh toward Damascus. Thy head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thy head like purple; the king is held captive in the tresses." His words were rushed and his lips quick as he kissed my eyes and my nose. He touched my cheek, dragging his fingertips down my jaw. I knew he was close to losing his composure.

His voice was hoarse as he continued. "How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights. This they stature is like to a palm tree and thy breasts to its clusters. I said, I will climb up into the palm-tree; I will take hold of the branches thereof. Let they breasts be as clusters of the vine…" His hands roamed lower, and I sighed his name as he cupped my breast, lightly grazing my nipple with his thumb. He touched me with a tame fierceness, his urgency slowed by his reverence.

His hips settled between my legs, and I could feel him pushing against me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lured him closer to me. He brought his face to mine, our foreheads and noses touching. I felt the familiar burning behind my eyes, the tingling of tears that would never come. I didn't deserve the way he loved me.

"And the smell of thy breath like apples, and thy mouth, like the best wine." He touched my quivering lips with his fingertips, and I took the time to kiss each one before I spoke, uttering the final words to "our" passage from chapter seven of Song of Solomon.

"Wine that goeth down smoothly for my beloved, gliding over lips and teeth. I am my beloved's and his desire is toward me."

I punctuated the last phrase by tightening my grip around Carlisle's waist and flipping him over. Shaking with need, I slid over him, encasing him within me. My breath hitched in my throat as he filled me completely, and I felt the world stop. Nothing else existed but us, joined as one like we were always meant to be.

My back arched, and I looked to the ceiling as I sat astride Carlisle's waist, unable to move. When I looked down, I found him staring at me, a look of adulation and utter amazement on his face. We had made love thousands of times, and every time, I saw that same treasured expression. His hands fell to my waist, and he sat up, shifting his legs beneath him and clutching me tight against his torso. I held his cheeks in my hands and gazed into his eyes.

"Esme, my darling," he choked, overcome with emotion.

I shushed him and stroked his silken hair. "We don't need words. Please let me love you."

Never breaking eye contact, I started to writhe against him, and within minutes, I was already close to coming apart in his arms. My endless yearning for Carlisle permeated every inch of my body and soul and spread into the room around us. I could feel it in the air just as I could feel every facet of his skin as we moved together – his hands massaging my back, my nipples roughly grazing his chest, his thighs rubbing against my backside.

"Oh, Esme, I love you so much," Carlisle moaned.

"As I love you," I heard myself say.

His eyes were still fixated firmly on mine when I started to unravel, the glorious power of my climax crashing over me like a tidal wave. Overwhelmed with pleasure, I let my head lull back, but Carlisle reached up and gripped my face, forcing me to look at him as he, too, fell over the precipice.

Looking into Carlisle's eyes as unadulterated ecstasy pulsed through his body felt painfully erotic but strangely sacred, as well. Only I could gratify him this way, and these precious moments when our souls were intertwined belonged to us and only us.

My arms fell to his chest, and I clung limply to him, exhausted by the force of our love.

Carlisle nuzzled his nose against my ear and murmured, "I'm not complete without you. Can we stay like this always?"

"Always," I replied as he ran his fingers through my hair. I wanted to stay locked in his embrace forever.

Eventually, Carlisle leaned back into the plush pillows piled in front of our headboard, and I let my body fall to his side, sighing when we separated. I rested my head on a familiar spot against his chest while I rubbed my hand adoringly over his stomach. My mind started to wander back over the events of the previous day and the marvelous memories those events had conjured up – memories that brought us to our present position. We laid like this in silence for several minutes before I noticed the rising sun peeking through the windows on the eastern side of our bedroom.

"Our perfect day is over," I said languidly, a hint of sadness in my voice.

Carlisle gently rolled me onto my back, and I stared up into his eyes. Hovering over me, he whispered, "Or, maybe, it means another is just beginning," before he kissed me with bruising intensity.


End file.
